Forbidden Reading (2 page)

‘I’ll turn the lights on once you’ve removed the bra.’

In the oppressive silence that lingered between them, Justine could feel her resolve fading. She didn’t want to expose herself to this unknown woman, although it was so dark in the vault she couldn’t properly call it exposing herself, but she had gone so far as to remove her blouse and she didn’t think it was such a great step to go that one step further and take off her bra. A sly voice at the back of her mind suggested that the woman’s night vision would be used to the vault’s gloom, but Justine shut those words off, unable to listen to their salacious suggestions. Treacherously, her nipples stiffened within the lacy cups of the garment, as though the tiny beads of flesh were trying to sway her with their own decision.

‘Take off your bra, show me your tits, and then I’ll turn the light on.’

Justine sniffed with disgust, most of it aimed at the woman who was demanding she undress but part of it meant for herself, then reached awkwardly behind her back to release the fastener. Her blushes had been deep before but now they burnt like coals against her cheeks. As she allowed the lacy bra to fall to the floor, she heard the stranger sigh with avaricious approval.

‘Now those truly are beautiful.’

It was unmistakably a woman’s voice, vaguely familiar and unnervingly close. Justine racked her brains to put a face or name to the voice but it was difficult to think beyond the piercing embarrassment of standing topless in front of an unknown stranger.

‘I can’t believe you’ve been hiding these little treasures from me all this time. They are so magnificent.’

A pair of hands reached out for her.

Justine stiffened when she realised fingers were cupping each breast and she could have fainted with embarrassment when a pair of thumbs stroked softly over the thrust of her nipples. The sensations were horribly exquisite: more arousing than she could have expected and twice as deplorable because of that glimmer of pleasure. Trying to remain unmoved, keeping her voice neutral and free from any taint of arousal, Justine said, ‘You were going to turn the light on.’

‘I will.’

Both hands remained at her breasts, squeezing and kneading the orbs while the thumbs constantly scratched back and forth over the stiff nipples. Justine ached to slap the stranger away, bark a bitter refusal and distance herself from the woman who was assaulting her, but she knew it would be safest to wait until the lights were on before she showed that much defiance.

‘Aren’t they just perfect?’ the stranger whispered.

Justine felt the tickle of hair against her breast, and then lips were brushing against her nipple. The torment of being fondled had been horribly exciting but this made her torture infinitely more unbearable. A cool mouth graced her bare flesh, then the slick warm wetness of a tongue pressed over one nipple. The bud of flesh grew quickly under the stimulation and then trilled with a rush of pleasure when it was playfully nibbled. Fighting to contain her responses, Justine pushed a fist into her mouth so she didn’t groan with enjoyment.

‘Aren’t they truly perfect?’ the stranger repeated.

Justine drew a deep breath before trusting herself to speak. Measuring each word, not wanting her statement to sound like a ruse, she said, ‘You’ll see them much better when you turn on the light.’

‘That’s right,’ the voice agreed. ‘I will see them better, won’t I?’

Mercifully the mouth moved away from Justine’s breast and the hands stopped tormenting her with their vile caresses. As promised the light came on but, rather than the illumination Justine had expected, she realised the bulb had been replaced. The room was turned black and scarlet from the glow of the dim, coloured bulb that now hung in the centre of the room. For the first time she got a chance to glimpse the person who had been assailing her with unwanted intimacies, vulgarities and depraved suggestions, yet the view didn’t help much. Too many shadows continued to hold reign and all Justine could see was the outline of a feminine shape. She noticed the narrow waist, buxom hips and full breasts of a womanly figure – she even observed the disquieting detail of the stranger’s nudity – but none of that helped her to place the woman’s identify.

‘Who are you?’ she demanded. Trying to sound confident, trying not to show that she was mortified to be displaying her bare breasts in this alien situation, she said, ‘I know you, don’t I?’

‘So many questions,’ the naked woman laughed. ‘And an answer will cost you your skirt. Are you prepared to pay that much?’

Defensively Justine clutched at the button on her skirt.

Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run. Light, keys, run
.

Now that she had some illumination, Justine glanced at her feet to see if she could see the keys. The stone floor was frustratingly bare and it was only when she heard their dull metallic jangle that she realised the woman was now holding the bunch. From the set of her trembling silhouette it was almost possible to imagine that she was laughing.

‘You wanted to know who I am,’ the woman reminded her. ‘And I told you the answer would cost you your skirt. Take it off. Take it off and allow me to introduce myself.’

‘I don’t care who you are,’ Justine decided. ‘Just give me my keys and let me out of here.’

‘That will cost you your skirt and panties.’

The words shocked her with a thrill of black excitement. Justine couldn’t explain why she should find the proposition arousing, or why she should contemplate surrendering herself further to the sadistic woman, but she couldn’t deny that the idea was tempting. In the aftermath of her terror the surge of excitement seemed like a natural response.

‘Strip naked, and then I’ll give you your keys and let you go,’ the woman assured her. ‘You’ve already shown me your tits, and I think we both got something out of that revelation, so why don’t you humour me with this final request? Take your skirt and panties off and I’ll give you back your keys.’

Sighing with frustration – hating the woman, the vault and her own weak will – Justine wrenched the skirt open. Hurrying to undress, not allowing herself to consider the consequence of her actions, she snatched her pants down to her ankles and stood naked in front of her tormentor.

‘Beautiful,’ the woman proclaimed. ‘Truly beautiful.’

Justine shivered with a mixture of cold and shame. She ached to put protective hands over herself but suspected that would only delay her escape from the vault. She had never thought exhibitionism could be such an aphrodisiac and she fervently steeled herself from the temptation of pleasure that it offered. Justine knew her body was attractive, she saw testament to that belief in the bathroom mirror each morning, and she wanted to smile with smug satisfaction as the stranger silently ogled her. But, not acknowledging any enjoyment, determined that she wouldn’t be swayed by the pleasurable thrill of revealing herself, Justine extended a hand and said, ‘I’ve done as you asked. Now let me have the keys so I can leave here.’

‘In good time,’ the woman promised.

Her voice had taken on a husky quality that was rich with arousal. The feral scent of womanly musk struck Justine’s nostrils and she wondered if she was drinking the perfume of the stranger or that of her own excitement.

‘I made a promise, and I intend to honour it, but I want you to turn your back to me first. I want you to face the wall.’

Knowing she had to do as she was told, Justine turned to the wall. She had time to notice that a fresh layer of panelling now stood where she had expected to find the switch, dimly realised that someone had laid careful plans to ensnare her in this situation, and then she was closing her eyes against the shame of being caressed. Cool hands stroked over her back, hips and buttocks. Inquisitive fingers pushed between her thighs and she was chilled when the woman’s fingers stroked the wet flesh of her labia. As treacherous as her nipples, the inner muscles of her sex trembled eagerly as though they yearned for more than mere titillation.

‘Beautiful,’ the woman whispered. ‘Truly, truly beautiful.’

For an instant Justine thought she might know who her tormentor was. Something in the woman’s phrasing sparked a memory at the back of her mind and she could feel herself on the brink of making the connection. Then, when the fingers returned to her sex and rubbed at the split of her pussy lips, all such trivial considerations were cast aside. She had to swallow down another rush of mounting panic and bite her tongue to prevent a moan of encouragement falling from her lips.

‘I was right when I guessed what you wanted before,’ the woman breathed. ‘You want a damned good thrashing, don’t you? That’s why you’ve come down here.’

‘No,’ Justine said, praying her voice would sound steady. ‘I don’t want a damned good thrashing. I only want you to give me the keys so I can get out of here.’

The hands stopped stroking her body and for one foolishly optimistic moment, Justine thought the woman was finally going to relent.

Then she heard the whistle of leather breaking air.

Before she could glance back over her shoulder, before she had the opportunity to protest, the sting of a tawse seared through Justine’s backside. A blister of agony spiked her rear and she howled at the painful indignity. While she was still acclimatising her body to the discomfort, she heard the hiss of the leather falling again and tried to brace herself for the second punishing shot.

‘Tell me you wanted this thrashing.’

‘I didn’t want this thrashing,’ Justine wailed.

‘Tell me this is what you’ve been needing.’

‘I only want the keys so I can get out of here.’

‘Tell me what I want to hear, then I’ll give you the keys.’

The woman delivered a volley of agonising blows, spiking flesh and coming close to stripping the skin away. After less than half a dozen slices of the tawse Justine had stopped squealing and her respiration had turned into a frantic chug for oxygen. Her rear was ablaze with the punishing torment and she felt dizzy and close to collapse.

‘Tell me what I want to hear, then I’ll give you the keys,’ the woman demanded. ‘I’m not asking a lot, am I?’

‘Very well,’ Justine grunted. She didn’t want to submit to the woman but she saw her options had been skilfully whittled away. ‘If that’s what you want to hear, then yes: I’ve wanted this thrashing.’

‘Touch yourself while you say that.’

Justine stiffened and started to shake her head. It had been traumatic enough undressing, and she still couldn’t believe she was allowing the woman to brutalise her with the length of leather, but the idea of following this final instruction was more than she could bear. She told herself she had to refuse, and that the submission had gone far enough but, because the command was delivered with another searing blow, Justine couldn’t find the will to resist. Sobbing as she revelled in the pain, snaking a hand between her legs and sliding sweaty fingers against the fetid heat of her sex, Justine teased the nub of her clitoris.

The bead pulsed beneath her touch and she was startled by the pleasure that her casual caress inspired. She hadn’t expected any joy from touching herself and the rush of delight was enough to make her quiver. Greedily, she rubbed harder.

The tawse slapped down against her rear. ‘Say the words while you’re touching yourself,’ the woman insisted. ‘Tell me that you’ve truly wanted this thrashing.’

For an instant Justine could almost picture the face of the woman. Then that detail was gone as a surge of pleasure flooded her body. The miserable tears she had shed were forgotten as she basked in a haze of euphoria. The release had never been stronger and she realised the orgasm was continuing in a series of glorious waves. Each time the tawse descended against her buttocks a fresh burst of delight flowed through her and she crested a peak of elation that left her weak and helpless.

‘Tell me that you’ve truly wanted this thrashing,’ the woman repeated.

‘I’ve truly wanted this thrashing,’ Justine agreed.

The tawse bit viciously against her upper thighs.

Justine pressed wet fingers into the folds of her sex and groaned as the escalating pleasure swept through her in a debilitating rush. The feral musk she had caught before was stronger now and much more intoxicating. Its dark flavour added to her excitement and she had no qualms about giving herself to the next surge of delight that took her in its embrace.

‘I wanted this thrashing,’ Justine screamed. ‘I needed this thrashing.’

‘Too damned right,’ the woman agreed.

Justine heard the clatter of the tawse being thrown aside and then she was being pulled away from the wall. She didn’t know what was happening until the woman embraced her, and she was being held by a naked stranger. Bare breasts jostled against her own nude frame and the woman’s roving hands smoothed against her aching backside and explored the curves and swell of her body. A tongue pushed against her lips as the woman’s mouth met hers and, still giddy from her unexpected enjoyment, Justine allowed the kiss to continue. She let the tongue probe her mouth, daringly allowed the woman to writhe against her, before finally stepping back and snatching a breath.

‘I’ve been wanting to do that since you first started working here,’ the woman confessed. ‘I’m glad we got the opportunity. You truly were satisfying.’

For the first time since she had entered the vault, Justine recognised her tormentor. She didn’t know why she hadn’t identified the woman before, blaming panic and her own nervousness on the oversight. But, now she knew who it was, she stepped away and pressed her back against the wall. Even when the woman handed her the keys she had promised, while flexing a reassuring grin, Justine could only think of the embarrassment that now held her after surrendering so easily.

‘Mrs Weiss!’ Justine exclaimed. ‘What on earth did you think you were doing?’

‘This is my vault,’ Mrs Weiss reminded her. ‘I can do what I like in here.’

Justine took the keys that were being offered and then began to snatch her clothes from the floor. ‘Maybe you think you can do what you like down here,’ she agreed haughtily. ‘But you’re not going to get away with treating me like some sort of sexual toy.’